


The Fluff(?) of Bullala

by DragonAgeSketchz



Series: Isala Revassan Levallan [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Bullala, Bullala Fluff, Collection of fluff, F/M, Fluff, I Tried, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Iron Bull is a nerd boyfriend who loves his kadan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-15
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2019-01-17 21:53:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12374871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonAgeSketchz/pseuds/DragonAgeSketchz
Summary: A collection of fluff (and not so fluff fluff) in non chronological order between Inquisitor Isala Lavellan and Iron Bull. These two are nerds. Most of these spawn from the request for fluff from friends.





	1. Boasting Bull

Isala finally makes it back into camp, the last of this afternoon’s blood cleansed from her skin. Cassandra and Sera had long since returned to their camp. Neither of them ever half as battle stained as Isala always seems finds herself. Upon her return, the delightful smell of Krem’s cooking reaches her nose, as well as the faint scent of ale. The Chargers and their leader already swimming in the barrel it seems. Bull’s boisterous laugh shakes the very tents as she weaves through them. One echoed by soft chuckles and groans.

“Come on Chief, not this one again!”

Krem’s protest is half hearted as always, and like always, it's echoed by half hearted jeers of agreement.

“Oye! ‘Ush up! I ain’t ever heard this, Quizzy always comes in and sweeps this druffalo away before he even gets to the good bits!”

Another round of laughter circles around the campfire as Isala makes her way to the to the group.

“So he has managed to find someone who has not heard that story? Well, maybe I should drag him off.”

She grins before stooping down and stealing a kiss from Bull. Cheers, whistles, and gagging noises fill their little camp as the two share a gentle kiss. Roasted ram and sweet ale cling to Bull’s lips. The faint scent of armor polish taints the air as his hand comes up to cradle her cheek.

“Stop your lip smackin’ and get on with the story!”

Isala jerks back, narrowly missing the rib Sera tossed their way. With a roll of her eyes, she goes to procuring at least one bowl of the meal before these gluttons ate it all. But she's thwarted by a warm hand catching her by the hip and pulling her down.

The scent of polish was stronger as thick, warm arms encircled her. The chill that had been setting in was relieved as she settled into Bull’s all encompassing warmth. She pays him no mind as he gently nuzzles her hair. Her scalp prickling as she feels the cool air and Bull’s chest rise with a deep breath. She shivers at the soft sigh he releases as Krem passes her a bowl of roast and stew. She offers Krem a wordless smile and shifts slightly as Bull begins his story.

“So before she obliterated that courtyard and that demon shit, Varric and I got in on Boss’s little secret.”

Varric lets off a soft chuckle as he and Bull share a grin. Solas remains wordless as he quietly listens to Bull spin his tale. Cassandra and Sera, the only two who’ve miraculously not heard one of Bull’s retelling sat enraptured. The others around the fire, mainly the Chargers and Varric, listen with amusement. Lounging in their chosen seats, their bowls set aside as Bull launches into the start of the “search”.

“So Solas leads us to that cabin that sat just off to the side, nestled in the trees. Chimney barely has a curl of smoke but you could feel the warmth as we get to the door. Solas here wants to have Varric pick the lock, doesn’t wanna startle the Boss. But where’s the fun in that?”

Isala doesn’t need to look up to know that Bull has that grin on his face. The one where the scar above his lip curls and he shows all of his teeth. His eye bright with the thought of impending danger. Instead she looks towards the two new listeners. Cassadra, a crease in her brow leans forward, hiding her mouth behind her interlaced hands. Her hair still damp from the bath and her hair loose from its usual braid, tumbles over her shoulder. Sera on the other hand was less reserved with her interest. Sitting on the edge of her stump, her bowl resting on her knee. A familiar glint of watching a prank unfold in her eyes.

“Worst she could do was throw a dagger at me. No doubt believing her intruder would be an elf or some scrappy human, she’d aim low.”

Bull’s chest rumbles with a low chuckle as he leans forward, closer to the fire. Shifting Isala so she rested more on his thigh.

“I rush the door and with one swing it shatters like Orlesian Brittle and we don’t even hear a shriek or gasp.” He lets out a throaty hum as he stares into the fire. “Instead the warmth of inside shifts. There is that chilling crack her magic does when she starts up. The one that sounds almost like ice on a river breaking. Then it smells like the Storm Coast - thick and electrified - and then air cracks as it snaps with the cold. The air ripples like water. Ice crystals exploding in front of me. My skin prickling from the magic...”

Bull wets his lips, letting out a soft breath as if he was reliving the moment. Isala could see it. The expression he had worn on his face, the surprise in his eye. The small puff of air blooming from his lips as the spell had faded. Bull catches his lip between his teeth for a moment, savoring the memory. Silence falls among the camp as even the Chargers were enraptured.

Most were when Bull reached this point in the story. The reverence in his voice had a draw to it, one that pulled his audience in and left Isala with warm cheeks. The way he spoke of this moment felt akin to his recounts og their dragon fights. Awe and reverence laced in every word. His throat bobbing as he swallowed thickly and returned to his story.

“Boss had slung one of her ice spells right at my face! Solas barely had time to throw up a barrier before it knocked my lights out. When the magic clears, the three of us are just standing there. Solas making his sour expression and Varric having lost his brows in his hairline-”

“I believe you had to recover your jaw and wit from the ground as well Iron Bull.” Solas cuts in, a quirk of his lips as he sips from his bowl.

Bull barks a laugh and leans back, a grin a mile wide splitting his face.

“I did! For a moment I thought Boss had been expecting an ambush, half expected to see her in full armor with a dagger drawn. Instead, there she stood, in nothing but her smalls. Clutching a nug in front of her with Shalelan growling at her side while shouting at us in Elven and Orlesian. Mm, bu my Kadan. My Kadan, looked deadlier than a Frostback.”

Sera had begun cackling halfway through, slinging her arm around Skinner. The two made quips about the modesty guarding nug. While just next to them, Cassandra still held her hands over her mouth. With the firelight it was difficult to tell, but Isala would swear the warrior’s cheeks were as red as her own. Varric was sharing their own chuckles with the Chargers. Adding his take on the events that left Krem and Dalish snickering. Solas offered Isala a sympathetic glance before moving on to his tent. The group distanced their attention from the couple. Allowing them a degree of privacy that Isala was thankful for.

Bull presses a gentle kiss to her temple, nuzzling her hair once more as he inhaled deeply.

“Thank you for not saying it.”

She feels him grin into her hair. “I don’t know what you’re talking about boss.”

“Uh huh, I’m sure.”

The words are teasingly flat as he pulls back, giving her with a playful grin. Isala reaches up, cupping his cheek and pressing their foreheads together.


	2. This was suppose to be fluff but it's sort of bitter sweet/angsty?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A moment in her quarters with Bull, a moment of closeness

The air was crisp within her quarters. Balcony doors opened wide to let the cool breeze off the mountains slip in and mingle with the humid summer air. Bull and Isala lounged on the couch, leaning against one another while she read reports and he a book found among her personal collection.

At some point between the report over the current condition of the Orlesian court and the measurements and styles of her gown, Bull had started playing with her hair. Not that Isala minded that he carded through her hair softly. She didn’t deny the pleasant warmth in her chest as the soft pressure of his fingers moved from her crown to the base of her skull. Nor did she find the way his fingernails lightly dug into her scalp at all displeasing. They were all pleasant sensations, ones that brought a soft hum into her throat.

“I know what you are doing The Iron Bull.”

She murmured softly, her voice sticking in her throat for a moment when his fingers dug into the strained muscle at the base of her skull slightly.

“I’m sure you do Boss.”

“The Iron Bull, if you want to read the reports, you just have to ask. I trust you.”

He starts at those words, as if she hadn’t said such things before. But she doesn’t comment, just offers a small smile and holds out the reports. Bull takes them hesitantly, putting them aside as he pulls her into his lap.  
“Maybe later.”

He cradles her face, tracing her cheeks with his thumbs and then her ears. Isala feels her cheeks and the tips of her ears warm, biting her lip as he rolls one of her piercings between his fingers. Her eyes fall shut as he cards through her hair, one hand cradling the back of her head.

“You always go for the hair.”

The words come out softly, breath warm on her lips. She cracks her eyes open when he stays silent for a moment too long. The expression on his face too sharp, too distant, for the moment. She straightens up, frowning as she tries to decipher his expression.

“Bull?”

His eye refocuses, returning to hers, studying her for a heartbeat or two. He lets out a soft sigh before pressing their foreheads together, both hands now cradling the back of her head and neck. He closes his eye for a moment, taking two slow deep breaths. All Isala finds herself doing is watching, waiting for him to come back from wherever his mind took him. On the fifth breath she tentatively touches his arm, his name soft on her lips.

“Bull...Is everything alright?”

His words are gruff, nearly as soft as her own, it causes her ears to twitch slightly, her frown deepening slightly.  
“Yeah Boss, I’m good.”

She wanted to push more, to get him to talk to her but suddenly his lips are on hers. It stuns and silences her. This wasn’t the first time he’s done so, a familiar tactic he uses to distract her from probing deeper. But this time was different.

Anxiety fluttered in her gut as he softly moved his lips against hers. His hold on her had softened, there was no command behind his touch this time. Her heart leaped into her throat, the ghost of a feeling she hasn’t felt in many years. A hand slides to her waist, her chest swells with warmth, a familiar ache.

She feels tears prickle her eyes, but finds herself kissing back.


	3. The Way They Say I Love you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bull and Isala tell each other they love each other in quite a few ways

Since they finding out she was serious about Bull, Isala’s closest friends noticed a few things.

After a battle he was there, by her side. A hand resting lightly on her hip, a joke or whole hearted praise followed by his booming laugh. There was a smile on her lips as she dismissed him, a blush that tinged her cheeks and ears when he buries his face into her hair and inhales deeply. His shoulders lifting as he pulled her close. He’d pull back slightly and fire off another joke, another line of praise. This time she wouldn’t brush him off, this time she’d squeeze his hand before moving away from him.

 

____________________________________________________

She fussed. There was no other word for what she was doing. She had shooed away healers, her hands glowing brightly as she poked, prodded, stitched and lectured her qunari patient. He would let her, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he watched her. There was the occasional joke, the gentle teasing. But he never tried to brush her off, dismissed her concerns like he would anyone else.

_____________________________________________________

At every tavern, ever stall, every cafe or dining hall he would steal a bite of everything before it touched her lips. A roguish smile and bolstering words to hide what he was really doing. But she knew, they both knew. Poison. It was in the slight frown between her brow, the way her smile wavered until he leaned in and kissed her hand. Then she would pick at her meal, watching him, waiting it out just enough for both their comforts. In return she kept his tankard full, paid his tab or brought him dessert. If they were in Skyhold or pre-arranged lodgings the meal was always to his taste in some way. A side dish, the drinks, or the desserts.

_______________________________________________

Blackwall still didn’t understand it, but that didn’t matter. They did, and it meant the world. Him with his dawnstone blade and her with her dawnstone infused staff. The standard dawnstone dagger that had worked its way into standard Inquisition uniform, nothing extravagant, but noticeable if you knew. Enough for Bull to grin when he saw new recruits stare at the blade puzzled, enough to invigorate him when they used it in the defense of villagers while she ran off to end Corypheus. Enough to mean something to them.

 

_______________________________________________

Everyone in the Inquisition had agreed that this was too much. But they couldn’t stop her, the advisors and closer friends tried to sway her but she wouldn’t budge. She had the biggest grin when he returned with the Chargers. A fire in her eyes and a bounce in her step. She was childlike. It almost soothed the dread in everyone’s gut. Seeing her so happy, so filled with life. She wasn’t much for grand gestures, overtly public displays of affection, but this time was an exception. The magic she usually held with tight reigns was dancing around her playfully, adding a warm to the breeze throughout Skyhold. His reaction upon learning what she had brought him made her practically glow. His laughter carried from the stables, echoing as far as the gardens. A _dragon_ she had hatched a bloody _dragon_ for him. It was needless to say that Blackwall moved out of the stables the night it happened. It was also needless to say that the lands she had scouted to the west of Skyhold finally had their tenant once the young dragon started spewing ice.

_______________________________________________

The Orlesian nobility always whispered of it, and for a time Josephine could not fathom the explanation of it. No longer were Andraste’s grace, lilies, or even roses decorating the Inquisitor’s stationary but frangipanis. It befuddled all the recipients of her letters, all except one. When Josephine found out, when she saw the way Bull’s eye lit up upon seeing the note she had left her with she knew. It was for him. When questioned Isala blinked owlishly, as if it was obvious.  
“Because I liked them.” She had said, as if it was in no way tied to the fact that Bull frequently requisitioned them. That she did not have them growing in her room or decorating the shrine of Andruil. Leliana explained why, it made more sense than the simple reasoning of Isala favoring the fragrant flowers. She couldn’t show him that favoritism, couldn’t paint a target on reports for him or even a letter. When explained that way Josephine couldn’t help but wonder why she hadn’t thought of that.


	4. Feelings Through A Touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This isn't straight up fluff, but it is fluffier than how Isala sees it in her Chronicles. A kiss can tell you so much, mean so much. So have some feels.

Soft was not the first thing one would use to describe Iron Bull. Gentle and tender were not the second or third thing to come to mind. Not for most anyways. Behind close doors, in the Inquisitor’s quarters, Isala had come to use many words to describe him. Come to think many things of him.

Kind. Comforting. Understanding. Strong. Firm. Commanding. Observant. Intelligent. Unmovable. Unexpected.

But gentle, tender, and soft were not within the first ten things she used for him. Something she was surprised to find were the very words to describe him in that moment. However, surprises were common with The Iron Bull, never something she was adverse to. Neither was this, but it was surprising nonetheless.

The Iron Bull was many things - a spy, a provider, a protector, a friend, a leader. What he assumed he wasn’t and would never be was a tal-vashoth, a traitor, a lover. What other word would he put for the feelings he held towards the elvhen woman currently in his arms?

He cradled the back of her head gently, fingers tangled in her wine red locks. His other hand supported her neck, his grip gentler than it had ever been before. She was so close, so slender, a thought that had crossed his mine on more than one occasion. Thoughts that had been casually followed with ways to use that if ever needed. But this time, they didn’t. This time the thought filled his chest with a tightness as she cupped his jaw. Her thumbs slide across his cheeks, running along his scars. Their lips moving gently against each other.

This time it was different.

There was no heat behind this kiss. No firm hands or growled commands. His hands were gentle on her skin and he shuddered under her light touch. This kiss held a sweetness she’s never had with him before. A sweetness that ghosted across her mind with familiarity. A flutter in her belly whenever he so much as sighed deeply, when his fingers twitched. She was so aware of him it startled her. Such feelings she hadn’t held for another in so many years she forgot she ever had. A warmth that vibrated through her whole being, a warmth she thought was lost to her.

Lost since Inan.

Wrapped in their own thoughts yet tangled together. They held their eyes shut, breath soft against the other’s cheek as the gentle kiss dragged on. There were no fireworks, no heat - just satisfaction, warmth, more.

Isala’s heart raced a mile a minute as Bull’s hand slid to her waist. Cheeks and ears flush, the giddiness of a young girl in love flooded through her. A tendril of panic snakes through her mind as she breaks the kiss. This wasn’t suppose to happen, this wasn’t suppose to be more.

Bull reinitiates the kiss, cradling her against him as he pulls her fully against him. This was different, she was different. This wasn’t another session, this wasn’t passing time with the serving girls. This was dangerous. A part of his mind whispers, but dies as quickly as it rose when she breaks the kiss and presses her forehead to his. She drags his hand from her neck and kissed each knuckle softly, shyly.

This was right.

They’re lost in their thoughts, their wonderment kept as their own. Each touch remains soft, as if they held to tight the other would disappear. Hands never wander past broad shoulders or slender waists, as if asking for more would end the magic. They stand there each time a hand skirts the boundary, letting their breaths mingle. Remaining frozen in each other's arms til one cups the other’s cheek and brings them together.

Not a word was whispered, but their eyes never left each other. Questions burning between them and answers selfishly hidden. Standing outside, cloaked by the shadow of Herald’s Rest, they clung to each other. Their only audience the stars above them and the cool autumn breeze.


	5. Bathtime Fluff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bull is serious about aftercare. It's a staple in their arrangement. But somethings press the boundaries of their arrangement, but not at all in the bad way.

His hand slides up her back. Isala lets out a soft hum before nestling herself further into the rumpled sheets. His deep rumbling laugh echoes from behind her.

“Come on Boss-”

She kicks blindly in his direction, only meeting air instead of flesh. He catches her ankle, pulling it to his side with another chuckle as her toes press against his ribs.

“I am not your boss.” Her words muffled by pillows and furs. She glances over her shoulder, eyes narrowing as she catches sight of his grin. “The Iron Bull… Do not-”

The words barely leave her lips before they’re cut off with a shriek. He yanks her from the bed, scooping her into his arms as she wiggles in his grasp. Laughter wracks her as she tries to break free. Something they both know she could easily achieve if she truly want to.

“Boss.”

His voice gives her pause, the way the title rolls off his tongue. She looks up from beneath thick lashes and tangled hair, just staring at him for a moment. With a calming breath she shakes the hair from her eyes, squaring her shoulders. Pressing closer, she wraps her arms around his neck. Clearing her throat as she mirrors his smirk and with her own.

“The Iron Bull.”

He fixes her with a look, a mixture of amusement and something else.

“I believe one of our rules was that you’d let me care for you afterwards as well.”

“Mmm, yes. I believe I remember something similar.” She murmurs, cupping his jaw as he carries her down the steps of her chambers. “Food, wine, a nice bath, oils. I do think I am getting the better deal out of this arrangement.”

He chuckles at her words, nudging open the door to his left. Isala glances around, humming as she takes in the room.

“Yes, much better deal. Candles, a fresh hot bath. You spoil me The Iron Bull.”

He doesn’t comment on her use of the article in his name. Only letting out a soft chuckle as he makes his way towards the enormous clawfoot tub. When Bull had first seen the behemoth he almost put an end to their arrangement. Buying furniture for a bed partner spoke of permanency, of commitment. Yet he found himself unable to speak against it when he came to deliver reports one morning. Only to find her and Vivienne discussing said item. Just as he found himself at a loss when she replaced her bed to something that could fit them both. That was almost necessary if they were to continue this arrangement. But this, a bath, it was completely frivolous.

“One word Boss. Dra-gons.”

She laughed, a rich, warm sound that bounced off the walls. She swats at his shoulders as he lowered them both into the tub. Water spills over the edge, flowing towards the drain in the floor. Isala laugh dies down into a throaty hum. She closes her eyes as the water's warmth surrounded her, seeping into her sore muscles, into her bones.

“I hardly see what that has to do with this.”

She trails off with dying giggles. They sit there for a moment, in comfortable silence. Until she twists around, straddling his lap. The room echoes with the sounds of water sloshing in the tub. The sharp ‘plop’ of water droplets falling back into the bath.

“However, The Iron Bull, I believe we both agreed you would not call me ‘Boss’.”

There is a lengthy pause, as studies her calm gaze, as if he was struggling to remember. Something she knew was never an occurrence when it came to their arrangement. But he stays silent, “pondering” the question as he leans forward and kisses her forehead. Wordlessly, he drags a rag across her back, following the lines of her vallaslin on her side.

“That might have been mentioned, at one time or another.” He whispers in her ear as he presses a kiss to her jaw. “But if I can’t call you ‘Boss’, Boss. I think it’s only fair you stop saying ‘The Iron Bull’. If we’re going to stop with the work names.”

She frowns at this, studying his gaze as he drags the sudsy rag up her back. It wasn’t that she opposes to the idea. But, he was the one to express desire for people to remember the article in his chosen name. But if, for their time together he wished for something different, who was she to deny him? Especially when she wished for the same thing. She lets out a breath as he drags the rag down her arm, her eyes follow it for a moment before returning her gaze to his.

“I believe that is something I can agree too… Bull.”

He offers her a small smile, Isala barely notes the splash of the rag falling into the water as he cups her face. He kisses her gently, one of his rare kisses without the heat that sent them tumbling into bed. One of those kisses that Isala found herself wishing for more and more. A gentle kiss that was accompanied with a warm look that meant more. A more she had not felt in a long time.


End file.
